


Brotherhood

by captaindominoes



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Childhood, Clones as Kids, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaindominoes/pseuds/captaindominoes
Summary: A collection of tales centering around the clones as young children and cadets. Each chapter will be a separate story, but all will fit into the broader storyline of the trials and tribulations of growing up a clone.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-5052 | Bly & CC-2224 | Cody, Keeli & CT-7567 | Rex
Comments: 17
Kudos: 101





	1. Cold Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So I've had this idea for awhile, and I finally sat down to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard, as it is). As stated in the summary, every chapter will have a different mini plot, but they all orbit around the same overarching plot of the clones growing up on Kamino. There won't be a regular updating schedule; this will pretty much be filled with little 500-1000 word drabbles whenever I'm hit with a plot. Feel free to send me your thoughts and ideas about cute, angsty, fluffy, or funny plots to my writing Tumblr: bluesunshine501 (or you can comment down below). I hope you enjoy the little stories I put together! This is meant to be a fun, lighthearted piece that will hopefully put a smile on your face :)
> 
> A side note on their names: I’m very aware that the clones most likely would not earn their names until later, but for the sake of clarity, I will be using names and not numbers throughout. Many characters (like Keeli) also don’t have canon numbers, so this is overall the best way to go about it.

The resting rooms were always cold at night. Perhaps that was why the Kaminoans decided to group them two to a crib; so that the clone children could share in each other’s warmth, as the thin blankets provided to them offered little comfort. Perhaps it was an issue of logistics, for when so many children were being produced at once, space was a commodity they could not afford. Or perhaps the Kaminoans recognized that the children who were never socialized never turned out quite right; were more susceptible to behavioral problems; could never work in teams like the others did; would never live up to their full potential. 

Starting from the day they were removed from their growth jars, the children were paired off with their batchmates and remained joined until after the age of three standard years, when they would be abruptly separated and placed into individual pods. It was the first true sacrifice they would experience, but certainly not the last. 

It was not unusual for clones who shared cribs as toddlers, or crib mates, to become unusually close. They almost always were, in fact. As products of test tubes and cloning vats, the children latched onto the few comforts they were offered. They had no toys to play with beyond instructional materials. They were not given physical affection, nor were they coddled or held more than was strictly necessary. They were not indulged when they cried. They were not praised, or nurtured, or loved. 

But they had each other, and that was enough. 

CT-7567 was always cold. His batchmate had learned this early on, when it became a habit for CT-7567 to stick his freezing cold toes against his torso, and CT-7567’s batchmate would cry so loud he would wake the other children. Now that they were older, CT-7567 knew better than to do such things when he would be scolded in the morning for it. They were Year Twos now. Old enough to walk, talk, and hold a blaster. They would start training with the older clones soon, beyond boring educational modules. 

But CT-7567 was still cold, even if he was a Year Two. Tonight, old habits resurfaced, and CT-7567’s batchmate found himself suffering under relentlessly cold feet in the dead of night. 

“Keeli,” CT-7567 whispered in a way he thought was quiet, but was quite harsh in the dead-silent room. “‘M cold.”

“Get off, Rex.” Keeli huffed and drew their blanket tighter around himself, pushing at the onslaught of little feet. “I’m cold too.”

“Stop stealing.” Rex tugged at the blanket and rolled over, placing his back to Keeli. “You always do that.”

“Do not. Give it back!” 

“Shh!” Rex hissed as if he hadn’t raised his voice just as much as his brother. “They’re gonna get mad.”

“Your fault,” Keeli mumbled. He wiggled further underneath the covers and pressed up to Rex’s warmth. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” It took all of five seconds for Rex to make up his mind, and he suddenly threw the blanket off both of them as he stood up in their low crib. “I’m gonna get up.”

“Rex!” Keeli sat up and tugged at Rex’s leg, trying to pull him back down, but it was to no avail. “You can’t! They’ll get mad again!”

“I’m cold,” Rex muttered petulantly, climbing over the smooth sides of their crib to land on the cool, tiled floor. “Are you coming?”

The pitter-patter of quick, little feet could be heard across the room as the two boys made their daring journey to the other side. Weaving through rows of hundreds of individual cribs, they located one in particular, in the back separated from the rest of the Year Twos. This was where the Year Threes slept, and Rex knew exactly where to find his favorite Year Three. 

“Kote, are you awake?” Rex whispered as he clambered inside the crib. It swayed and rocked with his movements. “Cody. Wake up.”

A small sigh and a sleepy yawn could be heard from within. “Rex? What’re you doing over here?”

“Move over.” On instinct, Cody obeyed, and Rex planted himself between Cody and his crib mate. 

“Ugh, you’re freezing!” Cody complained, wrestling his blanket away from Rex when his little brother attempted to steal it. “Why are you over here? Where’s Keeli?”

Cody received his answer when a second boy clambered over him, curling up between Rex and his crib mate. Bly was still sound asleep, somehow; he could sleep through almost anything. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Rex. You and Keeli have to sleep by yourselves.” Even as he complained, Cody covered them all with the only blanket they had, hoping it would be enough to stave off the growing chill. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Much to Cody’s annoyance, Rex continued to shift around for several more seconds to get comfortable, before finally settling down with his head on Cody’s shoulder. Keeli was already drifting off alongside Bly. “I had a bad dream.”

“Come on, Rex. You know what I said before,” Cody replied softly, huddling down with Rex. “Bad dreams don’t mean anything. Monsters aren’t real.”

“It wasn’t a monster.” Rex gripped the front of Cody’s sleep tunic tightly. “I dreamed you went away.”

“Aw, Rex,” Cody said. “I am going away. Me and Bly are Year Threes.”

Rex made a distressed sound and scooted even closer. “You can’t stay?”

“No. We’re going to be in the pod room. Training like real warriors.” Cody puffed out his chest proudly. It was the day all the boys were waiting for; the day they transitioned from babies to real cadets. “But you have Keeli.”

“Keeli has cold feet,” Rex grumbled, and Cody laughed. 

“No, you have cold feet. You’ll be fine.”

A small sigh escaped from Rex, and he was quiet for a long moment as he resigned himself to his lonely fate. He was a child, and not just that; he was a clone. He had as much control over his own destiny as their blaster rifles did. “But I’ll see you again?”

“Sure. You’ll still see me.” Cody tucked his chin on top of Rex’s head. His prickly blond hair tickled Cody’s nose. “I promise. You and Keeli will be fine.”

Rex sniffled softly. He wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t going to get upset, even if his heart was sad and his tummy hurt when he thought about his big brother leaving him. Keeli would always be with him, but Cody was the one who had taken care of him and protected him ever since he could remember. Rex didn’t have much. All he had was his brothers. The thought of losing them was nearly unbearable. Maybe there was something of Cody he could keep with him when he went away. They weren’t allowed to own physical objects, but the Kaminoans couldn’t steal their memories. 

“Tell me a story,” Rex requested, closing his eyes as he relaxed into Cody’s warmth and comfort. “Please.”

“Just a short story. Until you fall asleep.” Cody was silent, and then his gentle voice picked up in Rex’s ear. “I knew a soldier who was old and wise and brave. He had lots of scars because he had been in a lot of battles. One day, the soldier picked up his blaster, and his CO said to him, ‘Soldier! Why are you holding your blaster like that?’ And the soldier replied, ‘Sir, I’m only doing it like you taught me, sir!’ And so the CO wasn’t too happy with that, ‘cause he wasn’t very bright, see, and the soldier was one of the best in their battalion…”


	2. Education

When Fox felt the first pinch to his leg, his instinct was to ignore it. 

The Kaminoan instructors were patrolling every row of straight-backed cadets, their sharp, black eyes scrutinizing every move they made. For the past hour, the cadets had remained focused at their stations, solving puzzles and simple logic scenarios. An hour wasn’t long, but it was long enough for the Year Threes to become restless. Fox had always been good at keeping still and quiet even when he was bored. His crib mate felt differently. 

The second pinch caused Fox to gasp in reflex. The instructor closest to him turned in his direction, and Fox ducked his head quickly, fearful of punishment. As soon as he settled back into the exercise he was working through, he felt it again.

“Ow! Stop it!” Fox hissed as quietly as he could, moving his leg away from the cadet to his right. 

“Wasn’t me,” Wolffe replied innocently. “You’re imagining things, Foxy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Fox’s brow furrowed. The exercise he was puzzling through was lengthy and confusing, even for a cadet at the top of his batch. 

“Something wrong?” Wolffe tried to lean over to see Fox’s screen, but Fox shoved him away before he could.

“Look at your own screen. Quit it.”

“You’re mean.”

Wolffe fell blissfully silent for several minutes. Fox let out a breath of relief and returned to his work, determined to finish. Much to his dismay, it didn’t take long for Wolffe to become fidgety once more.

This time, Fox saw Wolffe’s sneaky hand out of the corner of his eye, and he managed to catch it before it assaulted him again. The smug triumph Fox felt at having beaten his brother at his one-sided game was quickly overshadowed by the presence of the Kaminoan instructor who appeared by their side.

“CC-1010, what is the meaning of this disruption?”

Fox’s eyes grew to the size of droid poppers, and he dropped Wolffe’s hand like it was on fire. “We were just working. Well, I was working, and--” Guilt swelled in Fox’s chest. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t rat out his brother. Head lowered, Fox mumbled his confession into his lap. “I was bothering him. It was my fault.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to protest, but the instructor had heard enough. Hands, swift and brutal, came to haul Fox out of his chair and into the aisle between the rows of desks. The instructor watched with the same mild expression the Kaminoans always wore as Fox tripped and was dragged along. They only taught, never punished. It was not their way. The Cuy’val Dar had no such reservations. 

The room fell back into silence once the misbehaving cadet and his disciplinarian were gone. Wolffe’s hands trembled where they were folded in his lap. His eyes were locked onto his screen, unblinking and shining with tears. If he so much as moved his head, he feared he would be next. Even worse, it could be someone else. 

Slow, careful fingers guided Wolffe through the remainder of his exercises. When the final screen blinked his score, last out of 999 cadets, he barely heard the condescending snickers from his surrounding peers. Fox had not returned to the training room. Wolffe could still hear his brother’s quiet admission ringing in his ears. 

_ It was my fault.  _

How quickly Fox had taken Wolffe’s blame, and how easily Wolffe had let him. 

When the cadets were released back to their room to eat their rations of mush and protein cubes, Wolffe spotted his crib mate already lying down. Tentatively, Wolffe approached, his expression pinched in worry. 

“Fox?”

Fox rolled over when he heard his voice. Wolffe drew in a sharp breath and lowered himself to sit on the edge of the flat crib, his gaze somber and sad.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Fox lied. He slowly brought his hands out from where they had been curled against his chest. Both were swollen and marred with numerous red marks, as if he had been beaten with a long, thin object. Wolffe flinched, not out of shock, but because he could hear the precise sound the Cuy’val Dar’s batons made when they connected with flesh.

“I’m sorry. It was my fault. I should’ve stopped."

“Yeah. You should’ve.” Fox sighed and curled up again. His cheek rested on their pillow. “I’m fine.”

The cadets’ rations were sitting on a tray next to their crib, but Wolffe pushed them aside in favor of laying with his brother. Despite the cold annoyance radiating off Fox, he let Wolffe snuggle in until they were huddled together face-to-face.

“I’ll get you some bacta.” Wolffe whispered his promise into the space between them. “It won’t make it completely better, but--”

“No,” Fox cut in firmly. “You can’t. They’ll catch you.”

“What’ll they do to me?” Fox’s hands lay between them, a damning reminder in the midst of Wolffe’s determination. “I’ll get you some. I know how to get into the med bay. They won’t catch me.”

Fox closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. His hands still hurt, but he didn’t ache quite so much in his heart now. “Okay.” He shifted until their foreheads were pressed together. “How’d you do on the exercise?”

Wolffe’s sheepish grin was evident in his voice. “I got last.”

“They’re going to cull you if you keep scoring that low.” Fox opened his eyes in time to see Wolffe roll his. 

“Not if they cull you first.”

“Oh yeah? You think they’re going to cull me when you’re the one who doesn’t know the difference between a deecee and a rotary cannon?”

“I do so!” Wolffe stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “Ow. You really are mean.”

“Pain makes us stronger,” Fox murmured offhandedly, staring off into the distance. The words rolled smoothly off his tongue. They were well-ingrained into every cadet. The notes of the tune rang sour today, even to Fox’s ears. 

“You really believe that?” Wolffe asked skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Fox replied. They did not discuss it again, even when Fox had trouble falling asleep that night due to the throbbing in his hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> A small note: a classic way to start off a tale or story in many languages is some variation of "Once Upon A Time". I thought about what the clone equivalent would be, and I decided that it's common for them to start off their stories as "I knew a soldier". Whenever a clone wants to tell an exaggerated tale, anecdote, or fictional narrative, they'll start off with "I knew a soldier..." and go from there. (The soldier could be themselves or another clone). Just a fun little piece of info :)


End file.
